


Enough Is Enough

by LaKoda0518



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 10:23:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16262252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaKoda0518/pseuds/LaKoda0518
Summary: After solving a case, Sherlock would always greet John with the same seductive, lustful voice he reserved especially for him – a voice that left John aching; a deep, rumbling voice that could only be likened to a jaguar hiding in a cello. Each and every time he used it, John had to fight the urge to slam him up against the wall and ram his tongue down his throat.





	Enough Is Enough

N: ok, so another prompt I was given has come to fruition! I’m so pleased with this one lol it is based solely off of [this image](https://pin.it/h7iy3syoyrmrfb) and my mind just ran with it! I fell in love with the way this turned out and I hope you enjoy it as much as I loved writing it! I do not own these characters or the image prompt!

 

 

** Enough is Enough **

 

 

Fucking tease. That’s exactly what he was. Sherlock Holmes teased John Watson on a daily basis and, quite frankly, he had had enough of it. He had had enough sitting back, licking and biting his lips, and balling his hands into fists at his sides to keep himself from jumping his flat mate. Everything Sherlock did drove him out of his mind – the way he stood closer to him than any other human being on earth ever had; the way he did everything he possibly could to impress John only to call him out when the doctor told him how amazing he was in public; Hell, even the way he dressed was becoming painfully obvious. The one-size-too-small trousers that hugged his arse so perfectly and the lustful button-down shirts he wore that were so tight across his chest the buttons begged for mercy almost as much as John wished Sherlock did… but, that was all about to change. He wasn’t putting up with it anymore.

From the very first day they’d met, Sherlock had been toying with him. Flirting… trying to impress him. The way he winked and smiled at him when he had given John his name and address of their now-shared flat had sent John’s mind reeling. For someone who had never had a sexual relationship before, John was certain Sherlock Holmes was the sluttiest virgin he had ever laid eyes on. And it was that thought that had him sitting in Sherlock’s chair – yes, that would get his attention – in their living room, impatiently waiting for him to return from Scotland Yard.

On any other night, John would have gone with him unless he was late getting in from work to find Sherlock had gone off without him, as was the case this evening. Usually, however, John would make himself some tea and sit in his own chair working on his blog until Sherlock strolled in. After solving a case, he would always greet him with the same seductive, lustful voice he reserved especially for him – a voice that left John aching; a deep, rumbling voice that could only be likened to a jaguar hiding in a cello. Each and every time he used it, John had to fight the urge to slam him up against the wall and ram his tongue down his throat. Christ, even just the sound of it in his mind gave him an intense need to touch himself.

“Evening, John,”.

He opened his eyes. Ah… his jaguar was home.

The good doctor watched him come through the door of 221B and he couldn’t help but gape at him as his coat swished behind him. His thick, black curls were tousled and messy, making John groan internally as he thought about how wonderful they would feel to pull. Sherlock busied himself with his mobile, but when John didn’t answer him, he glanced around the room, his eyes finally settling on his flat mate. The detective smirked and his eyes shifted downward indicating the fact that John was sitting in his chair.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked, an air of shameless flirtation dripping from his voice.

As John looked up into Sherlock’s dark blue eyes, he licked at his own bottom lip, catching it between his teeth as he mulled the question over. “No. No – I’m not very comfortable. Your chair certainly is, but I’m not,” he finally replied, not taking his eyes off of Sherlock. He wasn’t letting him do this tonight.

Sherlock slipped off his scarf followed by his Belstaff as he draped them over the arm of the sofa. He stared at John inquisitively, no doubt deducing everything he could about the situation. Good. He deserved to understand it this way. It didn’t take him long, John guessed, because, after a few moments, the detective’s entire body tensed slightly.

“Oohhh,” Sherlock began, his lips forming a perfect ‘O’ as he tilted his chin and fixed John with a look he knew all too well. “You’re a bit angry with me. You think I’ve been playing games with you and you don’t want to play, anymore. Your jaw is tight and your pupils are enlarged which means you’re aroused. With a nickname like ‘Three-Continents Watson’, I’m sure it doesn’t take much, these days. The thought of shagging just about anything with a pulse, particularly. The look on your face and the tense muscles in your neck and shoulders indicate a need for sexual release, but you haven’t gotten yourself off this evening like you usually do; at least, not yet–“

At that John cut him off.

“Shut up,” he all but shouted. The outburst caused Sherlock to blink slowly and his expression changed so subtly that only John would notice. The look he had worn before was almost like smug intrigue, but this one was different. The arrogance had faded just enough that he could see the uncertainty in his eyes. That was something he never thought he would see in his flatmate and he relished it in the moment.

Sherlock swallowed, reassessing the situation no doubt, and took a step toward John but the good doctor raised a hand. “No, stay put. We’re going to talk, Sherlock,” he stated, trying to keep calm. He hadn’t registered until now that Sherlock was wearing jeans… skin-tight jeans… and that God-forsaken purple shirt… The sight nearly took John’s breath away, but he tried to focus. “You’re right, I am tired of playing games. I’m tired of you walking around this flat and all of London sending me subliminal messages with your entire body. I’m tired of you making me feel like some sort of sick bastard for imagining what you’d look like on your knees, that smart mouth of yours in places it’s never been before. And I am done with it, Sherlock. I am sick and tired of being teased and I’m no longer going to be responsible for the way I act if you choose to continue this ridiculous behavior!”

John hadn’t intended to shout, but he was too overwhelmed. Sherlock hadn’t really reacted to his confession, but just stood staring at him, eyes wide and lips parted slightly. It was wrong really, but all John could think about was how those lips would taste and how they would feel in various places all over his body…

A slight shudder ran through the doctor and Sherlock’s stare broke. He let his gaze fall to the floor instead and John decided to take over from here, once again.

“Sherlock, I don’t want to get angry with you. It’s just that I’m only human. If you keep sending me those signals, I’m going to act on them eventually and I don’t think you’ll be very happy about it,” he said simply, trying to keep the edge out of his voice. He was frustrated, but he also knew that he had to tread lightly with Sherlock on some things.

The detective didn’t look at him when he spoke, but he could tell he was deep in thought, “So, you’re saying that if I continue to taunt you and tease you, you’re going to give in and do what exactly?”. There it was again – that deep, baritone voice – drawing John under a wave of arousal as he heard Sherlock say the words.

John bit his lip again and he decided to be brutally honest with his flat mate, “Then, I’m going to give in and bend you over every surface in this flat and fuck you into next week…”. His words were calm, but commanding just like he needed them to be. The doctor could feel his hands trembling slightly as a weight lifted from his shoulders making him feel exposed.

Sherlock had still been staring at the floor as John spoke and it took several seconds for him to blink hard and glance back up at the doctor. As he locked his eyes on John’s, the expression on his face – and more importantly, in his eyes – was hungry and curious. Not exactly what John had expected. The detective let out a small sigh and mimicked the doctor’s earlier action – he licked his bottom lip and drew it between his teeth all while staring John down as his voice dropped a full octave. “Then, what are you waiting for…?”

It was all the invitation the good doctor needed.

John sprung from the chair and reached Sherlock in seconds. His hands closed on his shoulders as he bowled him over and slammed his back against the wall with a thud. He crashed his lips into Sherlock’s and kissed him hungrily. The detective’s body arched and shuddered against John’s weight as he ran his tongue along Sherlock’s bottom lip and slipped it into his mouth. Good God, he tasted wonderful… The doctor took pride in being the reason for the low, whimpering moan that escaped his flatmate’s lips, and he slid his left hand up into his dark, curly hair. As Sherlock’s arms slid around his neck, John placed his right hand firmly on his partner’s hip, hooking his thumb into a belt loop. The denim was softer in his grip than he expected and he felt himself groan at the sensation. He used his hold to pull Sherlock’s hips into him, relishing the thick bulge in the detective’s trousers as it pressed against his waist. Dammit…. He wondered briefly how many times Sherlock had been hard for him since they met and he let out a low growl against his flatmate’s ear.

Sherlock’s body arched once again, his head falling against the wall with a breathy moan as the sensitive skin of his gorgeously pale neck became exposed. John took the opportunity to attack the soft area between his neck and shoulder with feverish nips and kisses and the detective moaned his name almost pornographically.

“John… oh, John….”

God, did he know he was beautiful? It truly was unfair to the rest of humanity for Sherlock to be this attractive. He continued to lavish kisses up Sherlock’s sensitive neck, leaving a trail of love bites as he sucked and nipped at him. The more John kissed and sucked, the more Sherlock writhed beneath his weight and bucked his hips up to meet John’s, still moaning with rumbling pleasure. Bloody hell, what John wouldn’t give to punish that mouth of his for making him feel this way. That would have to wait for another day… Sliding his hand down just below Sherlock’s arse, he hitched his partner’s leg up to pull it around his waist, holding him in place behind his knee, so he could grind their erections together. The sharp intake of breath and needy groan told John he was on the right track.

As much as he loved having Sherlock pinned against the wall, he knew his situation with his taller flatmate would be easier to deal with lying down as he realized his partner’s legs were already growing very weak. The last thing he needed was for Sherlock to collapse on him.

John slid his free hand from his flat mate’s hair and groped Sherlock’s erection through his jeans for a moment – earning a sharp groan from the detective – before breaking away completely. Sherlock faltered at the loss of contact as his eyes fluttered open, but, before he could speak, John turned him around and steered him down the hallway. He wouldn’t be able to take another sultry word out of his mouth and, besides, he figured it would be easier for Sherlock to continue in the familiarity of his own room. John didn’t even bother closing the door behind them as he pushed Sherlock against the edge of the bed.

He tore his hands away from the detective and, with one hand, tugged aggressively at the collar of the purple shirt once as he licked over his own bottom lip. “Off. Now,” he demanded, allowing himself to ‘pull rank’. He knew it turned Sherlock on when he dropped into Captain Watson.

As Sherlock reacted instantly, fingering the buttons of his shirt open, John swept his cable knit jumper off in one movement and worked his own shirt open. Their shirts dropped to the floor as John gripped Sherlock’s hips and pulled him against his bare chest. Sherlock’s lips rested on his head, nuzzling his dirty blonde hair, but the height difference didn’t bother him. He was groping fistfuls of Sherlock’s denim-covered arse in his hands as he had slipped them into the back pockets of his jeans.

“You wore these on purpose,” he growled into the crook of his flatmate’s neck.

Sherlock moaned in response, his body twitching and betraying him as he quipped, “Obviously… you’ve never seen me wear jeans before, but – ah – I knew the way they fit me would please you. – Ngh – You’re driven by sight and touch. I’ve been testing your parameters for several weeks, now – ah, God – to find out what you like me to wear best,”.

Oh, God, of course Sherlock had worn specific outfits to see what John preferred him to wear. He had been trying to seduce the good doctor, after all, and as he stood facing the detective with his cock achingly hard, he had to admit it had worked.

“Mmhmm,” John hummed against his neck as he nipped the skin again, moving his hands to slip Sherlock’s jeans lower on his hips. “Yes, you did… and what did you find out?” he asked, his breathing ragged as he continued his assault on Sherlock’s neck.

The detective shuddered under his mouth, but continued, “I discovered that you became particularly – ah – frustrated when I wore specific shirts and tighter articles of clothing. My purple shirt in particular. Must be something about the – ooohhhh – color. Your eyes were darker and your patience with me was less than adequate on those days –“. His words were cut short as he let out a small yelp of surprise. John had reached down and slid his hand to the button on his flatmate’s jeans and worked it open so he could pull down the zip. Sherlock let his head drop onto John’s good shoulder as the doctor palmed his erection through the black silk boxers he wore.

John gripped the detective’s cock through the slick fabric and let himself groan in delight. Sherlock felt amazing in his hand, full and thick – not much unlike himself – just maybe an inch or two longer.

The taller man’s breathing was ragged and his flatmate had rendered him speechless. The good doctor was almost smug, but had to remind himself for a moment that Sherlock had probably never been touched this way before by another human being. John half-smirked to himself as he tried to put a bit more tenderness into his touch and found his own erection becoming particularly unbearable.

He slid his hand from Sherlock’s jeans and ran it up his chest and stopped at his shoulder, pulling himself back. He squeezed his own erection through his jeans and massaged it for just a moment trying to relieve some of the pressure. His flatmate lifted his head off of his shoulder and stood staring questioningly, trying to steady his breath. John tugged at the flap of Sherlock’s open jeans and then motioned for him to lie down on his bed.

The detective slipped his jeans the rest of the way down and kicked them off before he crawled into bed to lay propped on his side. His shorts strained in the front as his eyes swept over John’s bare torso down to his groin before settling on the angry scar on his left shoulder.

John removed his trousers and socks, watching his handsome partner as he studied him intently. Sherlock raked his eyes over John’s entire body once more before the detective fixed him with a seductive stare. When he spoke, he was the jaguar, again…. The low, rumbling growl that Sherlock had perfected so damn well made his cock leak with desire the moment the words left those perfect lips:

“Touch me…”

The good doctor allowed a devious smile to spread across his face as he purred back, “With pleasure…”. He pounced on his flatmate and flattened him to the bed on his back as he pinned Sherlock’s wrists above his head. “You growl at me like that on purpose, don’t you? You know it sends shivers down my spine and you know I love your voice when you get that low, don’t you, Sherlock?” John accused, kissing and sucking at his earlobe. Sherlock’s breath grew ragged in response as he nodded his head, unable to form an actual reply. He zeroed in on his jawline and pressed several kisses down the detective’s lean body, trailing his way down to tug at the silk boxer shorts with his teeth. As he bit down on the silky waistband, he allowed his teeth to gently scrape over the sensitive skin at Sherlock’s hip.

A feral moan escaped his lips and he locked his legs around John’s back, locking him in at his groin. “Fuck me!” Sherlock growled out, circling his hips up to rub his erection against the good doctor’s cheek and John shot a glance up to see Sherlock’s eyes squeezed tightly shut. Christ, he was sexy… absolutely beautiful.

“Oh, I’m going to, love… But, first…” John’s voice trailed off as he licked a stripe down Sherlock’s chest and stomach until he was able to catch the waistband of his shorts in his teeth once again. He tugged them down over the detective’s hip bones and arse without using his hands as Sherlock’s erection pulled free. Removing his flatmate’s pants with his teeth was simply erotic and John felt himself shudder with arousal at what he had just done.

He looked up to check on Sherlock – he wasn’t completely heartless, he did believe in asking for permission, after all– and the detective’s pupils were blown wide and a pink flush covered his face from his cheekbones to his chest. “Can I?” John started, fishing for Sherlock’s reaction. It seemed to take a moment for the question to sink in. Finally Sherlock nodded his head and groaned out a rough “please”.

The good doctor smirked and puffed out a short breath as he turned his focus on the detective’s arousal. He experimentally flicked out his tongue and drew it across the slit to see how Sherlock would react. Just as John expected, his hips arched up and he sucked in a sharp breath. Now, it was his turn to be teased. He flattened his tongue against Sherlock’s shaft and licked lazily up to the head before swirling it around the tip. He felt the detective shudder and moan with his motions and he wanted to do more. This time, as he licked up the shaft, he swirled his tongue around the tip and then sucked the head into his mouth.

Sherlock swore under his breath and broke his hands free of John’s grip, instantly fisting them into the doctor’s greying blonde hair. John licked and sucked, taking all of him in. He swirled his tongue up and down the shaft and around the head as he hollowed out his cheeks. The handsome detective melted beneath him and he felt him tugging his hair, gently at first then harder the more he sucked. John loved having his scalp teased and his hair pulled. Sherlock’s long, violinist’s fingers worked his scalp seductively and he hummed against the detective’s cock in his mouth. This must have been too much for Sherlock because he tugged at John’s hair to pull his mouth off of him and whimpered.

John smiled at his partner’s flushed face and brushed the mess of sweaty curls from his forehead. “You ok, love?” he asked, not entirely sure when he’d started using the pet name. He never imagined himself calling Sherlock by a term of endearment, but for some reason, it definitely turned John on.

Sherlock nodded his head breathlessly, “Yes… I just – I won’t last much longer with you doing that. I want you first…”. He waved his hand in the direction of his bedside table, instructing John to open the drawer. The older man obliged, pulling the drawer out to find a new box of condoms and an unopened bottle of lubricant. So, he’d been expecting this, then, had he? John felt a pang of sentiment shoot through his core and he tried to push it away. Just because Sherlock had thought of having sex with him didn’t mean he wanted a relationship. God, he wasn’t even sure if the detective was interested in seeing anyone…

John shook his head to clear his thoughts. He didn’t need to spoil the moment. He would have this with Sherlock and then they could sort it out, later, when they were both able to better comprehend what was happening.

He opened the box of condoms and fished one out before popping open the bottle of lube, coating his right hand. He placed his free hand on Sherlock’s hip, encouraging him to lift up so he could slide a pillow up under his arse to raise his hips. John pulled off his flatmate’s boxer shorts from where they were pooled at his ankles and dropped them to the floor as he slid into position between Sherlock’s knees. He slid his own shorts off, tossing them aside, as he began rubbing the cleft of his partner’s arse with his lubricated hand.

As Sherlock shuddered beneath his touch, John wrapped his left hand around his aching cock and pumped himself to ease the tension he was feeling. He timed his strokes with his caresses to Sherlock’s backside until he felt the detective relax into his desperate fingers. He moved his hand down to ghost over his partner’s hole and pressed a single digit to the center.

The sharp intake of breath and the way Sherlock wrenched away at first prompted John to still his movements. He reminded himself that his flatmate had never been with anyone sexually and the pang of sentiment he had felt before was back. His expression softened and he stroked the side of Sherlock’s thigh with his left hand. He whispered encouragement and continued stroking his thigh soothingly as he felt his partner’s breathing return to normal.

John couldn’t tear his eyes away from Sherlock’s perfect face. His lust-blown blue eyes were heavy and lucid and those gorgeous, pouty lips begged him to claim them as his own once again. He slid his hand up Sherlock’s thigh, trailing his short nails up his side – this earned him a low groan as the detective’s body spasmed beneath the touch – and let his hand rest on his cheek. As he brushed his thumb over his sharp cheekbone, John smiled at him.

“Is this okay? I’d like to try again if you’re willing,” he said through a silly grin. The more he looked at Sherlock, the wider he felt it got. It was almost like a switch had flipped inside him. He was hungry for Sherlock, no doubt, but he also had strong desire to make him feel cared for.

Sherlock tried to smile back and ended up letting out a very deep chuckle that made John’s toes curl. “Yes, I’m fine, now… and I’d like that very much, John,” he replied wistfully. The love-drunk expression on his face made John’s heart swell and he couldn’t keep himself from leaning down to kiss the detective possessively before breaking away to return to his spot between Sherlock’s knees.

He re-lubed his fingers and placed his middle finger at his partner’s entrance once again. He started slow by massaging small circles against his skin to relax his body and loosen him up. Soon enough, he was able to dip the tip of his finger in and caress his way in up to the first knuckle.

At first, Sherlock seemed a bit uncomfortable, but it didn’t take long for him to loosen up and allow John further access. As he probed and worked his finger in up to the second knuckle, the detective began to moan and press his backside into the touch. John continued swirling his finger in a circular motion as he pressed deeper and used his free hand to slip up between the detective’s thighs and grip his neglected erection.

The moment John’s hand wrapped around Sherlock’s throbbing cock, he swore quietly and his whole body twitched, allowing John’s finger to be seated completely inside him. It was quite pleasing for them both and John began silently probing for Sherlock’s prostate. It didn’t take him too long to find it as he curled his finger in and to the right.

As John’s fingertip brushed against the bundle of nerves, Sherlock flew up off the mattress with a yelp of surprise. His breath seemed to be completely sucked out of him and he looked absolutely wrecked. John chuckled and rubbed his hip soothingly as he coaxed Sherlock to lie back down and let him continue. With encouragement from his flatmate, he pushed a second finger inside. Using his middle and index fingers, he began a scissoring motion to widen Sherlock’s entrance.

Soon enough, John was three fingers deep in Sherlock’s arse and was as harder than he had ever been in his entire life. With each thrust of his fingers, Sherlock stretched out to accommodate the girth of his erection and John could hardly wait. After a few more scissoring motions and a another pass at his prostate, Sherlock brushed his left foot against John’s thigh to get his attention.

The good doctor glanced up at his detective who gave him the go ahead to get himself ready. As John pulled away just long enough to open the condom packet and slip it on, Sherlock raised up on his elbows so he could watch. The movement got John’s attention and he rolled the condom onto himself slowly and seductively, giving his partner a show.

This made Sherlock blush slightly and he started to look away. Before he could retreat too far into his own mind, John reached out and cupped his chin in his hand to look him in the eyes. He brushed his lips over his cheek and then kissed his lips softly before smiling at him.

“Don’t you dare be embarrassed with me…. I want you to enjoy this as much as I do,” he said quietly as he pressed one last quick kiss on his lips before going back to the detective’s entrance.

He lined himself up with Sherlock’s hole and looked down at him. He was watching John and with wide eyes and the doctor hoped he wouldn’t get nervous on him. “Keep your eyes on mine,” he said soothingly, “I really want to watch you as I do this,”.

Sherlock only nodded and his gaze never left John’s as he pushed into his heat, slowly. He was extremely tight around John’s erection at first – so much so that John had to stop right after the tip to calm himself down so he wouldn’t explode right then and there. As he pressed on calmly and slowly, he was able to work himself halfway in before Sherlock’s legs began to tremble. As a doctor, John knew he only needed a moment to allow his body to adjust to the sensation of John’s cock filling him up inside. He studied the detective’s face looking for cues to be able to press himself in further until he felt his testicles press into the curve of Sherlock’s arse. It was such a tight fight that he wondered how he would even be able to move without losing control. Even the smallest adjustment Sherlock made had John wanting to come.

After a few minutes, he was able to begin a slow and steady rocking motion as he worked himself into an acceptable pace. John’s head fell back as he moaned and groaned with pleasure and Sherlock gaped at him, mouth hanging open wantonly. The detective rocked his hips against John’s movements and he let out a string of curses and a dangerously feral moan as the head of John’s cock brushed against his prostate over and over again.

At the sound of Sherlock’s pleasure, John’s eyes blinked open and he felt the beginning tremors of orgasm begin. Reaching between them, he wrapped a hand around Sherlock’s erection and began stroking in time with his own thrusts. God, he was so close…

“Sherlock, I’m close… so, so very close! It won’t take long-“ he gasped, feeling his partner tensing up beneath him. He’d give anything to make him come first so he could watch his release and memorize his perfect face during such a vulnerable moment. As if he could read John’s mind, Sherlock’s moans grew louder and he began pushing his hips up into John’s thrusting hand. His breathing was uneven and John swore he could hear his heart pounding in his chest. He focused on hitting his prostate with every thrust of his hips and after three strokes, Sherlock finally slipped over the edge, coming all over John’s hand as he shouted his name: “John… John, oh, John!”

The sound of Sherlock shouting his name in orgasm was all it took. John thrust in hard against his partner’s prostate one last time as his body gave way and he released inside him. He came in waves and, as he thrust through it, he felt a burning white light behind his eyes. He opened them slowly and saw Sherlock staring up at him with parted lips and his curls were plastered to his forehead. John’s legs were shaking from post orgasm tremors and he collapsed softly on top of his partner, who wrapped his long arms around him. He was surprisingly strong for his build and he could feel the detective pressing soft kisses into his hair.

John was definitely spent and he shifted his hips to pull out so he wouldn’t cause Sherlock any prolonged discomfort. The taller man groaned quietly in protest and John winced, “Sorry, its always like that afterward… at first, anyway,”. He pushed himself up to lie next to his flatmate and stared at his face longingly. He had no idea where they were supposed to go from here. What was a bloke supposed to do after shagging his seductive, male flatmate senseless? He let out a soft chuckle as the question crossed his mind and Sherlock looked up at him, suddenly blank.

The detective cleared his throat and he had snapped right back into his usual personality. “Is there something funny or amusing about this scenario to you, Dr. Watson?” he asked, curtly. His defenses were going up and John knew he had to head him off before he locked down completely. Sherlock had let every guard he’d ever had down for John as the months had gone by and he wasn’t about to lose that progress, now. Not after what they’d just done.

John smiled a silly grin at Sherlock and took one of his hands in his, entwining their fingers together. “Hey, Love, come on. Don’t try to pull that, now… I’ve made you mine; you can’t just try to slip away from me like that,” he said, kissing Sherlock’s knuckles as he spoke.

His flatmate’s defenses seemed to lower a bit as he continued to kiss, but Sherlock was still eyeing him with a particular look. He studied the good doctor’s face for a moment before he finally spoke.

“John…?” he began, softly.

“Yes?”

He chose the next words carefully as if he’d been trying to understand a foreign language. “John, I’m afraid I don’t follow what you’re implying when you say that word… During our… our time together… you said it. And then, you said it again. And now, you’ve used it for a third time; this time without the influence of a sexually charged encounter. I’m not sure what you mean in the demeanor in which you say it,” Sherlock stated rather factually as John wracked his brain for the source of this inquiry. John blinked rapidly for a moment before he realized exactly what Sherlock was referring to.

“Ah… You mean when I called you ‘love’?” he asked, trying to maintain an innocent façade. The first time it had been natural; the second time it snuck out on him; but that last time? Completely on purpose.

Sherlock tried not to pull a face, but he raised his eyes to meet John’s. “Yes… that’s exactly the word I am referring to,” he answered, his voice solid, but just barely. The good doctor could tell this was something Sherlock never would have expected – not in a million years.

John smiled and pulled Sherlock onto his side so he could look at him properly. He stroked his sharp cheek with the back of his fingers and then ducked down to kiss his concerns away.

“Sherlock, I called you that particular pet name without realizing it the first two times. My brain’s natural reaction to you was to call you ‘love’. My subconscious took over and plowed on ahead without me…” his voice trailed off as something that looked very similar to disappointment began to cloud Sherlock’s beautiful blue eyes. “The last time I said it, I said it completely on purpose…. After all, it truly is how I feel about you… so, what’s the use in hiding it now?”.

His partner eyed him suspiciously, but John didn’t give him a chance to think too much into it before the words came tumbling out:

“I love you, Sherlock Holmes…. I fully and truly do… and I will never see a day in my life where I regret that decision. You don’t have to say it back or feel the same way; that’s all fine. But I couldn’t go another day without you knowing,”.

Sherlock’s mouth dropped open subtly and he snapped it closed as he pressed his lips into John’s. His lips were soft and needy as they licked and nipped at John’s bottom lip and it made him feel completely happy inside as he wrapped his arms around the detective. His detective…

“I believe I love you, too, Doctor John Watson,” Sherlock answered, his voice returning to the low growl of his inner-jaguar that John had found himself ever so smitten with.

 

 

 

 


End file.
